Bent Words

Bent Words

August 28, 2004

'Half hour to an hour...,' he said and three hours and fifteen minutes later, I only wonder why he couldn't call to let me know. Perhaps I would have made other plans. Perhaps I would have kept the company of my parents. Perhaps I could have joined the festivities. Perhaps I would not have done a thing to prepare myself. I could have danced longer, read more of the paper, turned the music up louder, overcome my neglect in my scrap book, gotten lost in MY evening. I did not begin any of these projects for I did not want to start something I could not finish in a half hour. I did not want to be overtaken by other tasks when I knew, as soon as he was to call, I would be entirely too excited to prolong another moment and delay our time together by five minutes.

I'm frustrated because he's doing HIS thing and I'm WAITING for him. I'm frustrated because of his lack of recompense - no call to apologize. I'm frustrated because when someone asks me about school, I almost start crying - I'm scared to death and here I am; wondering how I could consider myself an intelligent girl, ready for responsibility and challenge, while waiting for 'just one more hour,' to hear his voice.

Do you not see how one evening transfers over to the rest of my life? Can you string together evenings of similar result and not feel the hopelessness that resides upon their repitition? I've worked so damned hard and yet here I sit. A portent of things to come...

WHAT OF THIS WORLD HAVE I BECOME IN MY DESPERATE AND POTENTIALLY DEMEANING PURSUIT OF COLLEGE??

Four hours later and all I have resolved is that I have no one to blame but myself...

Written at 9:42 p.m.